Assassin's Creed High-School

Drama Transcends the World of Theatre

He finishes with a dramatic flourish and bows, awaiting recognition for his impressive performance. Evie turns sharply away from her brother with her mouth puckering unhappily, and she brings her hands together repeatedly in a forceful applause. Everyone else follows her lead and claps half-heartedly, but that seems to be enough for Roth, for a delighted and practiced grin lights up his face.

“Thank you, thank you!” He raises both hands to silence the room. “Mesdames et Messieurs, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Drama Class! Before we begin today’s lesson, I feel it is my duty as, not only an  aficionado of the arts, but as an educator, that the theatre is a tragic place, full of endings and partings and heartbreak. You dedicate yourself passionately to something, to a project, to people, to a family; you think of nothing else for weeks and months, then suddenly it's over. It's perpetual destruction, perpetual divorce, perpetual adieu.”

Wow. So far you weren’t sure whether or not this guy was trying to convince everyone how enlightening drama could be, or how devastatingly humiliating and terrifying it truly was hidden underneath all the glitz and glamour.

“...Of course we all come to the theatre with baggage. The baggage of our daily lives, the baggage of our problems, the baggage of our tragedies, the baggage of being tired. It doesn't matter what age you are. But if our hearts get opened and released -- well that is what theatre can do, and does sometimes, and everyone is thankful when that happens...”

“I’ll be thankful when this class is over,” Jacob grumbles, easing back into a slouch.

“Jacob.” Evie warns in a quiet voice, her eyes narrowing but remaining glued to the stage.

You didn’t need to look in order to know that he had rolled his eyes. To be honest you couldn’t help but agree with his boredom. So far, you’ve sat for the past forty-five minutes listening to the teacher ramble on and on about his feelings on theatre, and recite numerous monologues from various plays. Oh well. At least sitting and doing nothing was better than the alternative.

“Now, can we have (Y/N) Stillman up on stage, please?”

“Huh?” Came your highly undignified response, blinking rapidly when finding Roth’s predatory gaze boring into your soul. “Me? Oh, um.” You glance around the auditorium, desperate for an excuse to avoid going up there, but Roth has a look in his eye like he won’t be gainsaid, and the other students are looking towards you expectantly, waiting for you to get a move on.

Dammit.

“Guess I have no choice,” You mutter, raising yourself from the seat and eyeing the stage as though it were a scorpions nest. The back of your neck burns painfully hot as you shuffle down the centre aisle of the auditorium, trying to avoid eye contact with the twenty-odd students shifting in the uncomfortable plastic seats. Climbing the steps to the stage makes you feel even more exposed, as does the frankly appraising way that Roth looks you over.

“Very nice,” Roth murmurs, seemingly to himself. He lowers a hand onto your shoulder, the slight pressure he applies making you feel rather uncomfortable. “How do you fare when it comes to improvisation, my dear?”

My dear? Was he allowed to address the students using terms of endearment? “Not well, if I’m honest.” Your attention falls to the hand still resting on your shoulder. Surely you couldn’t be the only one creeped out by this guy?

“Ah, no matter. Rely on your partner and everything will be fine.”

“Partner?”

The clearing of a throat drags your attention to the opposite end of the stage. There, standing tall and proud, is the drop dead gorgeous foreigner: Ezio Auditore. Eyes the colour of warm honey, unblemished skin kissed by the sun, dark hair framing a chiselled face...